<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Story of Healing by Philoslothical1095</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22688032">A Story of Healing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philoslothical1095/pseuds/Philoslothical1095'>Philoslothical1095</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales of Termina [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Legend of Zelda &amp; Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Carnival of Time, Clocktown, Gen, Post-Majora's Mask, Song of healing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:53:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,210</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22688032</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philoslothical1095/pseuds/Philoslothical1095</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The first chapter to Tales of Termina. Added to the original text by Anju and her grandmother.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anju/Grandmother, Anju/Kafei (Legend of Zelda)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales of Termina [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1434181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Story of Healing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I was born close to my grandmother, and in my early life the very first memories of the world I have are of her smiling face looking over me from the kitchen. My parents were never up that early and I suppose it was the luxury of having grandmother around that afford them this small comfort. She was there for my first haircut (an almost ceremonial right for my family; everyone getting their first cut from the second eldest aunt; a hairdresser). She was around for the first birthday, the first holidays, and the first stories. Eventually circumstance took us apart and visits while regular had become spaced apart by the better half of a year. Our sort of carnival celebration began the cycle over again. As a child I could hardly understand why grandmother cried whenever we said goodbye, we’d be back next year; of course, I thought. The years continued and the clockworks were gummed up with all manner of things, and the carnivals came later and later. That is until a few years ago as I was going about my daily routines, when I got the news of her passing; and I continued on. I did not want to admit what had happened because it meant so much good had gone from the world, and I had never really thought of her as someone who would go away. I suppose at that point in my life it was a childish hope I was just telling myself but it was not something I had expected to happen so suddenly, and without the chance to get one last goodbye, it all just felt so incomplete I was preparing to introduce her to my own family to be, but we had no final carnival, no more goodbyes. This passage now is really the most I time I have devoted to expressing all the emotions that then had hardly affected my step even if it had crushed everything else. It was not until the funeral, seeing her again this last time, I could not deny what had happened. She looked peaceful, asleep even, and with each right of passage, the long day at the funeral palor, the next day at the ceremony, my heart sank lower as the memories returned again, right up until that final moment where the casket was lowered and it was our turn to deliver the tearful goodbye.     </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The people of Termina have many regrets, me more than most. Their souls ache, longing to breathe free of these worries. Grandmother, was one of the few people who seemed to meet death like an old friend. This story was found tucked in the back pages of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tales of Termina</span>
  </em>
  <span> many years after her death when I finally brought myself to open the book for my children. Now this one will be there waiting for them. Like any story in this book it has characters, a setting, a plot, rising action, and climax all the elements that make a good story. Unlike the rest this one was written by an old woman. A crafty old woman who enjoyed playing tricks on her granddaughter. The cook, of whom I am a poor shadow, and can only ever aspire toward. The loving old woman who was always there for her children and grandchildren whoever they might have been.    </span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Anju</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I remember the day Anju was born. I remember telling her father, “Tortus, this girl is wound up tighter than the clock on the Carnival of Time.” I wasn’t wrong. Anju is a very tightly wound young woman, and why shouldn’t she be? Her father gone, that overbearing mother of hers, and now a missing fiance? I am amazed by her strength. As a child Anju was always tailing after the farm girl Cremia. Tortus and Talon being close friends as they were meant she was able to spend many a summer out at the ranch exploring the fields outside of the town I would sometimes join them my cane in hand; this was a time before my wheelchair.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the evenings  Anju would storm my room, plucking a book from the highest shelf she could reach by her lonesome; how proud her Grampy would be, to see how much little Anju loved his book collection. Hurriedly she clambered up onto my lap a safe zone in case her mother came to put her to bed. We would read from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tales of Termina</span>
  </em>
  <span> which was a part of us and we of it.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anju moved away, for how long I was not sure, engrossed in the work of her life. I am happy for her, proud to say she is my granddaughter, and yet sad things are not as they were. Our annual commitments became more and more difficult to keep with the demands of her life. I suppose this is the curse of being old and free of those demands. I know she hasn’t left me behind or forgotten, and I know this separation is as hard on her as it is me.    </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I know they think I am senile but really I just want to see Anju’s smile again. It has been so long, and too many people are miserable these days. Every so often I get Anju to take me out of the gates to watch the sunrise over Great Bay; the wind feels good on my face and hands. Besides the time alone with Anju is nice to have again and I like seeing the children playing in the street on our way home in the late morning; Bombers indeed. Everyone in this town knows me, and would look after me. They would even help me home from the market without wanting compensation and I’ve nothing to fear of thieves; though I am close friends with the old woman who owns the Bomb Shop, and she says a thief has been seen stalking around outside the town at night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As I get older and Anju begins to take over the Inn. She really is not the best cook, but she has a routine, and to be perfectly honest is running things as best she can, what with her betrothed disappearing recently. My daughter, Anju’s mother, thinks he has run off with the ranch girl Cremia; hogwash I say. That boy was too smitten with my Anju, but I don’t want to speculate what may have happened. The day of the Carnival my daughter and I left with much of the other townsfolk. Anju stayed behind, convinced Kafei would return to her, and, well, he did. The wedding was held the next morning. The moon did not crash, and the Giants came, as I knew they would. The call from the top of the tower could be heard for miles around; the cry of a lost child. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I am old, this I know. I have seen my daughter grow old, and now even my granddaughter is an adult. I have gone mostly blind and am confined by my aged body. Most people I know are fearful of death, they are not ready they say, there is so much left they had wanted to do. After thinking about it I am ready, I have no regrets, no need for healing.   </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>